


Water Prison

by Fleshwerks



Series: Whispers on the Water [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Making Friends, failing spectacularly, oh jowan, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:25:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleshwerks/pseuds/Fleshwerks
Summary: Just because mages are cooped up in the same tower doesn't mean they all get along or even really talk to each other. Jowan knows what it's like to be bullied, but when the bullies turn on Leandaros Surana, he decides to strike up a friendship. It goes... ah. It goes.Tumblr prompt that will, in time, span over multiple years with multiple chapters. Introduction.





	Water Prison

Jowan had been an unremarkable kid who no one really liked or hated or truly even noticed. But Jowan was the first of their age that sprouted into height and grew angry red mountains on his chin, cheeks and forehead that he squeezed at a small mirror when he thought no one was looking. The two hairs in three rows he called a beard he paraded around proudly until Enchanter Jarek told him to shave off, and that he would show him how.

Teen years were unkind to him as the kids who had not yet hit puberty ganged up on him, prodding at his lanky arms that and held their noses as he passed, though that tapered off as the rest of their flight caught up and collectively entered the sea of misery that is puberty whilst being cooped up day, night, year after year with twelve others every bit as insufferable as yourself.

Except for the quiet, lurking Lea Surana who didn’t seem to grow up with the rest despite being their age, and that’s when the ire of the ravenous crowd of teens who competed and feuded with each other over girls and boys, of popularity and of magic, ganged up on the one that lagged behind everyone. Little Lea Surana, shrouded behind his hair and robes that never fit did never join in with the torment.

And Jowan took pity.

When he woke up one morning, well before others, he glanced over at Lea Surana’s bed and found him gone despite it still being dark outside. He’d hoped to catch him and start up a conversation, but every morning the boy had slithered away from the dorms before the rest stirred. He wondered why the templars stationed at the dorm doors didn’t protest, force their curfew like they did that time he’d tried to leave the dorms early and seek Lea Surana out, but he’d never managed to work up the nerve to ask them.

Instead he laid his head back down and waited for the first light of the morning.

\------

Lunchtime found Lea Surana slurping at his soup, sitting several feet away from a gaggle of older apprentices. They didn’t pay attention to him, nor he to them, but the sight was awkward regardless. Jowan contemplated the situation and decided that this should be the moment, and what ever humiliation and bullying it may bring, the elf kid at least had no opportunity to slip away. He set down his plate with a waft of magic - a neat little trick he’d learned that allowed him to levitate whatever he’d been holding and make it go where he wished. Jowan did well with fire, but force, not so much, and it seemed a good idea to show it off. Solidarity, he thought, as Lea Surana’s failure to draw from the Fade to perform any spells but the weakest most rudimentary ones were a daily entertainment for everyone. See? Jowan thought. I can do it, me, and I’m shit at everything. You’ll get there!

But Lea Surana froze on the spot, spoon filled with broth barely touching his lip, and glared at Jowan’s chest. Sweat broke at Jowan’s hairline. Oh no, he thought as he watched his eyes fix on his chest, then his plate, then his hand. His long ears remained perfectly still, no twitch to betray any sort of emotion. The templars had brought in a pair of Dalish teens snatched from some clan hiding in the Wilds who now kept entirely to themselves, huddled in the shadowy corners, conversing with each other in some strange mix of trade and elven, but as much as they talked with their mouths, they also talked with their ears. But the elves of the Kinloch Hold learned to still that part of their speech within months from arriving. But then he’d always hoped that one day he himself would stop blushing, a bright red giveaway of the words and thought he himself had tried to leave unsaid.

Suddenly, Lea Surana continued eating as if the time had merely paused and then continued.

 _Hi_ , Jowan tried and dunked his piece of bread in the broth.

Lea set down his spoon. He did not want to be here, Jowan could smell the discomfort off him, but there was no recoil in him or agitated glances at the nearest exit. It was the same calm, biding, persevering discontent walked with him down the halls, sat with him on his bunk bed, clung to the skinny boy’s bones like another robe.

He felt his face redden. Why had he even come here? What was he going to say? Hello, I’m Jowan, I’m here to offer my understanding and compassion because I totally know what it’s like to be you and---

 _I’m Jowan_ , he blurted out.

 _I know, Jowan,_ Lea Surana spoke, voice cracking, and this time the elf’s ears pricked backward. Oh, yeah. He’d been through that, too, Jowan thought and swallowed, feeling the bob of his larynx, the sodding Maferath of a body part.

I just thought, you could like, Jowan said, trying to contain the word vomit as his ears turned so red and hot they threatened to melt down the sides of his face. Like, I saw your, like. Spell. The force shield. I suck at that, too.

Oh. My. God. Oh my god. Did I tell my new friend that he sucked at magic? In Kinloch Hold where all us mages have is pride in which of us can conjure the most? Nice, Jowan. Smooth.

But when he finally opened his eyes, he saw Lea Surana still sitting there, again eating his soup as if he’d heard nothing at all.

He knew other apprentices were sneaking glances at them. Those who weren’t openly staring at them anyway.

 _Yeah, Jowan!_ Someone jeered but he couldn’t identify the voice. A bunch of kids whooped, and the hall returned to its usual murmur and clink-clanking of silver against ceramic as if people’s malice bounced back from the little mage’s invisible shield of resignation. It seemed less like anguish or defeat and more like waiting, and Lea Surana outwaited the mockery and the hungry eyes on them that demanded a spectacle.

 _What do you want?_ Lea asked and this time his voice didn’t betray him.

 _Nothing!_ Jowan replied and took a bite out of his soup-soaked rye bread in an attempt to bring some normalcy into this disastrous attempt to reach out.

_Just figured I’d try and make a friend?_

Lea finished his bowl and stuffed an entire dry slice of bread into his mouth, then pushed off the bench and picked up the plate, cheeks bulging from the mouthful. Can’t talk, the gesture said, but it seemed almost humorous. Or so he hoped as he suddenly found himself alone at the table with his stupid soaked bread and soup that had gone cold.

 

 


End file.
